


The Way They Used To Be

by GreenLies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Character Analysis, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, i literally made my own canon and ran with it im sorry, its not really discussed tho, like SO not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenLies/pseuds/GreenLies
Summary: "I'm fine," he muttered. He didn't want to let go. He let go anyway, so he could look Kuroo in the face. "Just don't forget about me, okay?"Kuroo smiled, small and gentle. "I would never."orAn analysis of Kenma, Kuroo, their years together, and how someone can be lost and then found again.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

Kenma moved to Tokyo when he was ten years old. 

His mom had gotten a new position in her large electronics company, and with it, the order to move to the city. They packed up everything they had as soon as they could and made the trip. It wasn’t too far, perhaps a two or three-hour drive, but by the time they got there, Kenma was irritable and pissed and mostly just confused as to why they weren’t going home. 

He met his first friend when a woman knocked on the door, a carrot cake in one hand and her son holding the other. Kenma hid behind his mother as the two women chatted in the front yard until she swatted the back of his head, frustrated. “Go play with Kuroo, sweetie.” Kuroo wasn’t hiding behind his mother, but he wasn’t exactly jumping to say hello, either. They looked at each other disdainfully until their parents both went inside, leaving Kenma and Kuroo with nothing to protect them. 

Kuroo broke the silence first by sticking out a chubby hand. “I’m Kuroo,” he muttered, trying to look as tall as possible. 

Kenma grabbed it and shook twice, like his parents had taught him. “Kenma.”

“Why did you move?”

“Dunno.” Kenma looked down at his feet, because the alternative was looking up at Kuroo, which just didn’t seem fair. “Work.”

Kuroo shrugged, and that was the end of their conversation. 

The next day, Kenma was sitting in the family room when Kuroo appeared again. He wasn’t normally supposed to answer the door, but he could see Kuroo through the glass pane, and more importantly, Kuroo could see him. 

“Kenma!” He yelled, the door muffling his words, and pointed to a ball tucked under his left arm. “Let’s play catch.”

Kenma said yes, mostly because he couldn’t think of any reason to say no, and let himself outside. “We have to stay in the front yard.”

And so they played catch, and hardly any words were exchanged between them, but that was okay. Kuroo, at least, looked cheery enough when he waved good-bye. 

He and Kuroo settled into a comfortable friendship, after that. For the rest of the summer, Kuroo would come over and they would toss a ball around or play tag in the front yard or, most days, play video games. His family came over to Kuroo’s for dinner every so often, and he and Kuroo would run upstairs and watch a movie or play a board game until their food was ready. 

As the end of the summer approached, Kenma began to worry. He worried about going to school in a new city, about going to school in general, about whether he would be left out because all the other kids had grown up in Tokyo and he hadn’t. He confessed this to Kuroo one day as they lay on the grass in Kenma’s yard. 

“Don’t be dumb.” Kuroo sat up, flicking Kenma’s head. “School is fun!”

“You’ve gone already?”

“Of course!” Kuroo drew himself up to his full height. “I’m in my sixth year!”

Kenma gaped at him for a moment. It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was - after all, Kenma wasn’t much of a talker, and neither was Kuroo, and they rarely had important conversations over their games of catch. 

“Oh.” Kenma averted his eyes. “Is it scary?”

“No! It’s fun. And you’ll make lots of friends!”

“What school do you go to?”

And it turned out to be the same one he would be attending. 

Which eased Kenma’s worries just a little, and the next week he was headed to the elementary school a few miles away. He and Kuroo sat together on the bus, Kenma gripping his backpack like a lifeline. As they got off, Kuroo jostled his arm.

“You’ll be fine! Good luck!”

The school was, in a word, large. Everyone seemed to be looking at him as he passed, and Kenma tried to keep his head down. He hardly spoke, and the other students didn’t even seem to notice. Perhaps that was best. By the time the day ended, he hadn’t said a word. 

After coming home that afternoon, he barely had time to flop down on the couch before Kuroo came barreling in. 

“What did you think? How was your first day?”

“It was…” Kenma thought for a moment. “Big. And a lot of people.” 

“Maybe. Did you like them?”

Kenma hadn’t, not at all. It felt too crowded. It felt like there were eyes everywhere.  
“Don’t know,” he mumbled, burying his head in a cushion. “I like you better.”

It must have been the right thing to say, because Kuroo beamed. 

The days flew past, and Kenma’s school experience didn’t change too much, but it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t need people to talk to - he didn’t need anyone to put him first, or to run over to him when they went out for recess, or to whisper with him during quiet time. He had his parents, and Kuroo, and anything more would have simply been too much. 

The concept of school, the idea of being forced into a room with twenty other kids and told to make friends, was something that did not agree with him. His teacher tried, she did, but Kenma just wasn’t interested in meeting new people. 

“He’s just a quiet kid,” his father said when the teacher finally insisted they meet to discuss Kenma’s lack of participation. “He’ll grow into it. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

And halfway through his first year, just as the leaves began to change color and flutter off the trees, Kuroo came to his house after school. This in itself was normal; Kenma’s mother had begun to joke that the boy spent more time at her house than his own. No, the thing that made a difference this time was the volleyball Kuroo held between his hands. 

“Let’s try it! Please, Kenma, please, it looks so fun, I saw it on TV, you’ll like it…”

Kenma did not like it. He didn’t like the way his arms got red and blotchy after just a few minutes or the way he had to keep running after the ball when it bounced off his hands at weird angles. After virtually no argument from Kenma, but a lot of side-eyes and sighs, Kuroo finally conceded and called quits for the night. 

Kenma learned over the next few weeks that he much preferred watching volleyball to playing it. Whenever he refused to get up, Kuroo would drag him into his family room and they would watch the games air on television. Kenma would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed it sometimes. It was as if he could _see_ the gears spinning in each player’s head as they decided where to place the volleyball next. It was fascinating. 

The year came and went, and Kenma was apathetic about it all. He rode the bus to school with Kuroo and his mother would drive him home. He and Kuroo would hang out almost every day, playing video games most of the time, occasionally talking. Rather, Kuroo talked, while Kenma listened. 

He learned all about Kuroo that year. How he always had too much energy and tapped his foot whenever he sat still for too long. How he wanted to go to college. How underneath the messy hair was someone who cared about Kenma in a way he had never known before. Sure, there were his parents, but they were his _parents_. Kenma had never had someone who hung out with him every day, just because they wanted to. And Kuroo always, always knew when to back off, when Kenma had had enough for the day. Kenma, though he would never voice it aloud, was grateful for it, grateful for the pressure it took off of him. 

Kuroo would help Kenma with his homework, laughing when Kenma got too frustrated and patting his head, saying that it had to stick eventually. And in return, Kenma would go outside a few days a week and toss a volleyball to Kuroo. They would bump it back and forth, trying new moves that Kuroo had seen on TV, and Kenma didn’t mind anymore, not really. 

He liked to spend time with Kuroo, and it was nice to feel himself improving. He began to understand the volleyball - all he had to do was know which way it would go and how to get it there. The fate of the ball was in his hands. As long as it was with him, he was in control, and it would do what he wanted. 

It was a good feeling. 

The end of the school year snuck up on them as quickly as it had begun, and Kenma didn’t have to wake up early for school anymore. He was free to go to bed late and wake up later and play games in the cool, air-conditioned paradise of his house all day. Kuroo still came over most days, and they would have sleepovers, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing at all. 

Kenma hadn’t expected Kuroo’s interest in volleyball to last very long, but that turned out to be exactly what happened. Warm days were spent playing volleyball and watching volleyball and Kuroo teaching Kenma new moves for volleyball that Kenma didn’t think he would ever use. 

Something unspoken hung in the air that they gracefully ignored. The fact that next year, Kuroo would be in middle school. 

Middle school. He would be leaving Kenma behind. 

The thought filled Kenma with fear. He didn’t need Kuroo. But at the same time, who else would make sure he ate during their lunch breaks and ride the bus to school with him? Who would help him with his homework and play with him on multiplayer? What if Kuroo forgot about him?

What if this was what he was waiting for? The chance to leave Kenma behind, to never have to talk to him again?

Anxious thoughts created a void in Kenma, worries that he was too scared to mention. He ignored it as they bottled up inside him, rising higher and higher until he was sure that his feelings would burst out at the most inopportune time. 

They didn’t talk about it. Kenma tried not to even think about it, which, of course, forced him to think about it more. 

It all became too much one warm July night. 

“Kuroo?” They were lying on Kenma’s bed, as far away from each other as physically possible. The Tokyo heat made the mere thought of touching someone else unbearable. Kenma almost wished Kuroo was asleep because if he replied, Kenma knew everything he had worked so hard to keep back would spill over. 

“Hm?” As usual, the universe didn’t seem to be concerned with Kenma’s wishes. 

Kenma wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his concern but hidden by the darkness, it was easy to let it take a form of its own. “Are you going to miss me?”

Kuroo sighed as if he had been expecting the question. “Of course I’m going to miss you. But it’s only one year! And we’ll still see each other every day.”

“You would still want that?” 

“Of course I would still want that.” Kenma could hear the smile in Kuroo’s voice. “I want to keep hanging out with you, even if we aren’t at the same school.”

“You’ll still like me.” Kenma turned over so he was facing Kuroo, who was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “Right?”

“Of course.”

“Promise?” He hated how pathetic he sounded.

“Of course!” Kuroo grabbed Kenma’s wrist, pulling his hand up so they could link their little fingers. “Pinkie promise. I’m not gonna just forget about my best friend.”

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend.

The words played back through Kenma’s mind, making his chest feel impossibly warm. Happiness rose within him, so fast and unbearable, that he was sure for a moment he would explode. 

Best friend.

He grinned, turning his face to his pillow so Kuroo wouldn’t see. 

\--

“I’ve been thinking of joining the volleyball team.”

It was only a week into the school year, and so far Kuroo had stuck to his word, coming over to Kenma’s every day. It hadn’t been long enough for the teachers to start piling on homework yet, so they mostly played video games. Today, however, Kuroo had brought his volleyball, tossing it from hand to hand as he spoke. 

“So do it,” Kenma said. He was huddled underneath his blankets and the idea of going outside was utterly unappealing. “It’ll stop you from bugging me.”

“But how will I survive without your amazing sets?” 

Kenma sighed. “Just do it. It would be good for you, I think.”

“Kenma! Always looking out for my best interests.” Kuroo sat down next to him, crossing his legs, suddenly serious. “But honestly. I…” He scratched his head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get along with the team. Not a lot of people get me. Not like you do.” 

“So you’ll learn.” Kenma understood where he was coming from - he did. It had taken Kuroo long enough to warm up to him, although Kenma supposed he wasn’t much better. “Like I said. Good for you.”

“And what if they don’t like me?”

“Then they don’t, Kuroo, there isn’t anything you can do. Not everyone will always like you.”

He half expected Kuroo to get upset, but instead, he just let out a laugh. “You’re right. Well, maybe I will then.” He took over Kenma’s exhausted form. “I’m guessing you aren’t in the mood to toss the ball around today?”

Kenma couldn’t see the face he was making, but it must have been something awful, because Kuroo started laughing again, and after a few moments, Kenma let out a giggle too. 

“Okay, okay,” Kuroo said, picking up the blue controller and passing the red one to Kenma like they always did. “Super smash?”

Kenma nodded, and finally sat up. Kuroo grinned at him, and they fell silent as the game began. 

-

“What’s up?”

It was a few months into the year, and Kuroo had dropped by for the first time in a week. Perhaps not that long to most people, but to Kenma, who was used to his constant presence, it seemed like a lifetime. They sat side by side on the couch

“I joined the club. Like you said.” Kuroo had a certain light in his eyes. Kenma didn’t know whether it was a detail he forgot, or whether the brightness just hadn’t been there before. 

“Really? How’s it going?”

“Kenma, it’s awesome.” A grin split Kuroo’s features. “You have to join next year. It’ll be so fun. They practice so much, and everyone wants to be good, you know? Everyone wants it as much as I do.”

Kenma knew that the last sentence wasn’t aimed at him, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. “That’s great. Seriously. I’m really happy to hear.”

“I know!” Kuroo must have figured out something that was going on in Kenma’s head because his smile dimmed slightly. “Don’t worry, though. I’m still gonna make you hang out with me.”

Kenma knew exactly what Kuroo was doing - disguising Kenma’s neediness as his own. He let it slide. “Okay.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, but Kenma was afraid to let it last too long, as though if Kuroo didn’t start talking he would disappear. “So tell me more about the people on the volleyball team.”

“Well! There’s Haruki. He’s the setter - the guy who gives the ball to other players. He’s insane! He goes for the ball, whether he knows he’ll make it or not, and he just doesn’t quit…”

Kenma let Kuroo’s voice wash over him. He tried to listen, he did, but his limbs felt so heavy and Kuroo’s tone was so soothing and before he knew it, he was opening his eyes and the room was dark. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep. The clock across the room read 7:04 PM, and Kuroo was knocked out, his head tilted back at an angle that would make his neck hurt like hell and his legs on Kenma’s lap. 

He poked Kuroo’s ankle. “Hey.”

Kuroo mumbled incoherently, bridging the gap between asleep and awake. Kenma resisted the urge to pinch him, which was one of the more effective ways to wake Kuroo up. He settled for shoving his legs off instead. “Get up.”

“Okay, geez.” Kuroo twisted to the left and then the right, popping his spine. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” His mom must have gotten home while they were sleeping, because the smell of something cooking wafted through the room. “Stay for dinner?”

Kuroo only hesitated a moment. “Okay.”

Kenma probably should have thought it through a little more. Dinner ended up with him tracing circles into his sauce with a chopstick while his parents peppered Kuroo with questions. 

“How long have practices been going on?”

“How are you enjoying middle school?”

“Who are the kids in your class?”

“Who’s the coach of your team?”

Kuroo took it all in stride, not even blinking as he chatted with them absentmindedly. Soon enough, dinner was over and Kuroo was saying he should go, he had homework, he had practice, thank you for the dinner, I’ll see you soon. 

Kenma walked with him to the door and, after a moment of consideration, threw his arms around Kuroo’s waist, burying his face in Kuroo’s chest. 

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, clearly trying to hide the shock in his tone even as he automatically hugged Kenma back. He didn’t blame Kuroo - Kenma was a fist bump type of person at the best of times. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had hugged Kuroo. Months ago, probably. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered. He didn’t want to let go. He let go anyway, so he could look Kuroo in the face. “Just don’t forget about me, okay?” 

Kuroo smiled, small and gentle. “I would never.” 

And then he ruffled Kenma’s hair and Kenma smacked his hand and Kuroo called out to his parents, saying goodbye, and left, shutting the door tightly behind him. 

Kenma watched him walk away, feeling something sour in his stomach and not really understanding why.


	2. Chapter 2

Something was changing. Kenma didn’t know what it was, and he  _ hated _ not knowing things, especially when they should have been obvious. 

The year was coming to a close, and Kenma feared that he and Kuroo’s friendship might be headed in the same direction. Over the course of the year, he had come to hang out with Kenma less and less, and lately, their conversations had been off. 

If it were anyone else, Kenma was sure he would have just chalked it up to a bad day, a bad week perhaps. But this was Kuroo. He and Kenma had never acted like this to each other before. 

It wasn’t that there was a lack of talking - rather the opposite. Before, the silence between Kuroo and Kenma had always been comfortable. Kenma wasn’t a talkative person, and neither was Kuroo, and this suited both of them just fine. However, lately, Kuroo had been rushing to fill every gap in conversation as if he couldn’t stand the quiet anymore. 

Kenma knew it shouldn’t bother him. He knew it wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it, but all the same, he could tell that something was off. He just didn’t know what had prompted the change. 

He told himself that it was just their timing. They were busy, or rather, Kuroo was. He had volleyball practice, and homework, and not as much time to hang out with Kenma as he used to. Kenma could deal with it, so he held on tight to that explanation. 

_ Just wait until summer _ , he told himself.  _ Kuroo will have all the time in the world, and you two can mend yourselves then. _

The year was, to put it simply, plain. The days had no distinction, and they passed ruthlessly. He graduated elementary school quickly and it was time for summer, time to begin preparing for middle school. 

Perhaps, in middle school, he would see Kuroo more. Maybe finally, things would go back to the way they used to be. 

On their first day of summer, he sat restlessly in his bedroom, his mind folding in on itself.  _ This is the time, _ it told him.  _ This is when you find out whether Kuroo actually wants to be your friend, or whether you were just a burden to him the entire time.  _

At one in the afternoon, there was finally a tentative knock on Kenma’s door.

“Come in.”

Kuroo entered quietly, as though he didn’t want to shatter the air with his footsteps. He sat gingerly on the bed next to Kenma.

They didn’t talk for a moment. 

It was Kuroo who spoke first. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Kenma enjoyed silence, but the one that followed made him more uncomfortable by the second. He leaned over and grabbed two controllers. 

  
Red for Kenma. Blue for Kuroo. 

“You can choose the game.”

Kuroo didn’t respond, but he smiled to show his gratitude and began sorting through the stack of games that Kenma kept by his bed. 

_ I guess we aren’t going to talk about it, then _ , Kenma thought and didn’t say. Maybe it was better if they pretended that nothing had changed. 

They played for a few minutes, the only sound being the tinny music coming from the game. 

“Are you nervous?” Kuroo asked. “For middle school?”

“No,” Kenma answered immediately. “It’s gonna be the same thing. It’s boring.”

“It’s not boring,” retorted Kuroo. “You’ll get to see me every day!”

“Like that’ll help?” Kenma asked, dodging Kuroo as he tried to flick Kenma’s ear. The two boys grinned at each other, and for a moment, everything felt like it used to be. 

Of course, Kuroo had to ruin it by opening his mouth. “Kenma, do you think you’ll do volleyball with me next year?”

Kenma didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

  
“Why not?” 

He sighed, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “It’s just… I only played before because you wanted to. And now, you have other people that want to. I probably don’t like it as much as anyone else there, so there’s really no benefit of me being on the team.”

Kuroo sighed. “Look, I can’t make you. But just think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Kenma was not planning on thinking about it at all. 

They resumed their game. Kuroo got hungry, so he and Kenma went downstairs to raid Kenma’s kitchen. As Kenma grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, Kuroo looked at the clock and cursed. 

“I’m gonna have to go in a few. I’m sorry.”

“Already?” Kenma tried not to sound too disappointed. It wasn’t even 3:00 yet. 

“Yeah, I promised some of the guys on the team that I would practice with them. I totally forgot.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” Kenma cast his eyes downward. 

Kuroo looked at him for a moment. “Do you want to come? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having another player.”

Kenma looked back up in shock. He hated meeting new people, and he especially hated meeting them in groups. He was surprised Kuroo didn’t remember. “No, I haven’t played in a while. Maybe next time.”

“Next time.” Kuroo grinned, but there was something pained just behind it as he helped Kenma put the snacks away. 

\--

  
The summer turned out to be incredibly underwhelming. Kuroo would come over occasionally. Most days Kenma didn’t see him at all. He pretended that it didn’t hurt him as much as it did. He kept turning down Kuroo’s invitations to join him for practice, and after a while, Kuroo stopped asking. When they hung out, it was only to play video games. Fewer and fewer words were exchanged between them. 

Kenma hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t nervous for middle school. The workload for him last year hadn’t been especially taxing, even without Kuroo helping him, and he was excited for the independence that he would get. And perhaps a tiny, tiny part of him was excited to be able to be at the same school as Kuroo again. 

The night before his first day was one of the best nights of sleep he had had in a while. 

His elementary school had been far enough that he had to go by bus, but his middle school was even farther. He was old enough that his parents didn’t have to wait with him anymore, so the morning of, he sat at one of the benches at the bus stop alone. 

Kuroo showed up. Kenma was a bit surprised - Kuroo hadn’t mentioned that he would be taking the bus. 

“Hey.” Kuroo sat down next to him. 

“Hi.” A beat passed. “You excited?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. First day jitters, huh?”

Kenma snorted quietly. “Hardly. I just want it to be over.” 

The conversation between them was strained, awkward, and perhaps Kuroo could sense it too because he didn’t reply. 

The bus approached them slowly, surprisingly empty. Kenma assumed that most people would take the train to school by now. He got on first, hearing Kuroo a few steps behind. 

He didn’t know what he expected. On one hand, they hadn’t spoken properly for nearly the whole summer. Their friendship wasn’t the same as it once was - it hadn’t been for a while. Something between them had shifted, just as Kenma expected it would. 

But on the other hand, Kenma had wanted middle school to be their redemption. He had wanted it to make things go back to the way they once were. 

Kenma sat in an empty seat in the middle of the bus, putting the ball in Kuroo’s court, just as he had the first day of summer. 

Kuroo hesitated before sitting a few rows behind him. 

Kenma didn’t know what he had been expecting. 

That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. He pulled out a small game player and started on a mindless game, trying to force the sting away, trying to distract himself from the situation at hand. 

When they finally were at the school, Kuroo didn’t say goodbye and neither did Kenma. 

They were strangers again. 

\--

The day was insufferable. Too warm, too long, and something inside Kenma’s chest ached. 

Strangers. The word plagued him. 

How had his best friend turned into someone he didn’t know, right before his eyes?

He wanted Kuroo back. But at the same time, perhaps getting him back wasn’t worth it, if there had been so much change between them. So on the bus ride home, when Kuroo sat away from him, Kenma didn’t even spare him a glance. 

The days had started to blend into each other again, until one week into the year, when third years paraded around the halls after school, yelling advertisements for this club or that one. A rather bold boy, sporting light brown hair and a wide smile approached Kenma despite his deep glare.

“Would you be interested in joining the volleyball club? You don’t even need any experience! You- ”

Kenma surprised himself by taking the paper before the boy had even finished talking. He muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then walked away, hastily stuffing the paper in his bag as he approached the bus stop before anyone else could see. Kuroo was there, but he didn’t say anything. They rarely did these days. 

The bus ride made Kenma itch. He usually had no problem sitting still, but the flyer was burning a hole through his bag. He had to force himself not to run back to his house. When he got there, he went straight to his room, closing the door and leaning against it to take a few deep breaths. 

_ Pathetic. You’re pathetic. _ Why was he so nervous?

With trembling hands, he took the flyer out of his bag. 

It was simple enough. A heading reading  _ Join the Volleyball Club! _ . A date and time. A simple drawing. 

Kenma was pathetic, and he knew it. 

He needed to let go of his friendship with Kuroo. Release the rope that was burning him. Push it into the ocean before they both drowned. Accept that it was over. Joining the volleyball team was a bad idea. No, scratch that - it was an awful idea. 

He didn’t even  _ like  _ volleyball. 

He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t. He was going to forget Kuroo, and forget their friendship, and forget about the stupid volleyball club. He threw the flyer into the small trash can in his room and forced himself to do homework until his eyes burned and then went to bed, pointedly not looking in the direction of the piece of paper. 

He just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. 

The next morning, right before he went out the door, he slipped a pair of volleyball shoes into his bag, berating himself the entire time. 

_ Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.  _

The mantra continued even as he walked into the gymnasium and saw the other players already stretching. 

The brown-haired boy from the day before ran up to him. 

“You actually came! I wasn’t expecting you to. Not that I’m complaining! Every new player is a good player. Oh! I’m being rude, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Haruki.”

The name pulled at a memory in the back of Kenma’s mind. He shook Haruki’s hand. “Kenma. Kenma Kozume.” 

By now, the rest of the team was looking over at him, causing Kenma to shrink into himself. He pointedly ignored the look of shock that crossed Kuroo’s face before the older boy turned away. 

“Well, have you played volleyball before? A club? Maybe just for fun?”

“I’ve tossed it around a bit,” murmured Kenma, looking at his feet. 

“That’s great!” This guy was way too loud and way too happy. It was beginning to annoy Kenma. “Well, we usually start practice by running, and then after that, you can just jump in to do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you like it, we can start properly training you in the next few days.”

Kenma hated running, and the word  _ training _ made his skin crawl. “Okay.” 

They began their laps around the gym. Kenma resented the way his legs started to burn. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were joining the team?” asked Kuroo after practice as they waited for the bus, albeit later than usual. It was their first exchange since the school year had started. 

“I didn’t know I was until today.”

Kuroo surveyed him, looking disappointed. “I guess. Are you going to keep doing it?”

“I don’t know.” Kenma’s fingers tapped on his phone mindlessly, even though it was turned off. “Maybe.”

“You should. The rest of the team seems to like you.”

_ The rest of the team.  _ “I guess we’ll find out.” 

\--

Kenma stayed on the team. 

Well, calling it a  _ team _ was a stretch. There were the rest of the players, and then there was Kenma. 

It wasn’t like Kenma was the only first year there. There was another, a boy with blonde hair that was a full head taller than him who could spike any toss thrown to him and had a brother on the team that was a third-year. Kenma had forgotten his name thirty seconds after he was introduced. 

It was clear that the nameless first-year already knew most people on the volleyball team, judging by how he seamlessly blended into their conversations from the first practice. The same couldn’t be said for Kenma. 

He had always had trouble making friends, and the team didn’t seem to appreciate it. 

They would side-eye him when he pulled out his phone during water breaks. They would snicker behind their hands when the ball would slip away from him. Even Haruki had dropped the niceties after a few days. When Kenma would slip or fall, they ignored him. Once he took a ball directly to the face, and nobody even spared a glance in his direction except for Kuroo, who approached him to ask if he was okay. 

  
It seemed as if no one had noticed at all. 

They didn’t have the patience, Kenma supposed, to deal with him, with his antics. They didn’t want to work to understand him. He was too different from them. 

_ Of course.  _ They all yearned for attention. Volleyball was a sport about attention; a sport to see who could get to the ball and do the most damage. Of course he would be the odd one out. 

He knew that they didn’t like him. They were easy to read - nobody tried to hide it. 

Kuroo didn’t wear the same mocking expression that most of them did when they looked at Kenma. But on the bus ride home, they had stopped conversing completely. 

Kenma had thought that if he joined the volleyball team, things would go back to the way they used to be. Maybe he would even make a friend or two. He had always been braver with Kuroo around, after all. 

He didn’t even mind the volleyball itself. It became bearable, once it had stopped stinging his hands and his arms didn’t have red welts on them anymore. Sometimes, when they played against another school, he would have fun, if only for a few moments. 

But then the game would end, and the rest of his team would whoop and holler or clap each other on the backs if they had lost and Kenma felt as though he was on another team completely. 

He wasn’t a quitter. Kenma had always prided himself on that - when he got to a boss in a final battle, when he had to stay up late to study for a test, when everything inside him told him to give up, he would keep going until he couldn’t take another step. 

He wasn’t going to quit this. It was a silent battle, and he wouldn’t let the rest of the team win. 

And so he kept playing even though he felt as if he was separated from everyone else. He wondered, some days, whether they would notice if he left and never returned. But as sweet as that fantasy was, he never came to entertain it. 

Instead, Kenma learned to turn his face blank and force himself to be apathetic. Every day he showed up to the gym and turned his emotions off. 

The season was long and arduous and he constantly berated himself for ever showing up to that first practice. But he would be damned if he gave anyone the satisfaction of driving him off the team. 

After their final game, no tears were shed. Kenma didn’t shake any of his captain's hands. He didn’t bow or thank them. The moment the bus pulled into their school’s parking lot, he turned around and left. 

Perhaps Kuroo was out celebrating with them because when Kenma went home that day, he was nowhere in sight. Kenma felt a pang, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had a few months ago when the pain was raw. 

Kenma thought of the rope that he had been holding onto for so long, tight enough to burn his hands until they were red and raw. He thought of the way he had grasped for any semblance of friendship, the way he had searched for any reason to pretend that he and Kuroo would be able to mend their relationship. 

He thought of the rope, and then he let go. 

Things would never go back to the way they used to be, and that was okay. 

The remainder of the year passed quickly. After the horrors that had been volleyball practice, normal classes seemed like a paradise. 

An aggressive calmness had filled him. It was strange and empty, but not entirely unwelcome.

His second and third year, Kenma didn’t so much as glance at his volleyball shoes. 

There was no need. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND I FINALLY FINISHED THE BACKSTORY. This was a pain in the ass to write so I'm glad to be getting it out. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed! As usual, I always am thankful for comments and kudos. Stay safe, stay healthy, and know that you're always loved!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this literally took forever im so sorry

Kenma would admit it. He was excited for high school, just a little bit. 

With high school came freedom. He would no longer be tethered to anyone. His fate rested entirely in his hands. He could even drop out if he wanted to. 

He never would, of course. But the idea was quite thrilling. 

The train to school took only fifteen minutes, and the station was just down the street. He had to wake up earlier, but only slightly. His uniform fit, his hair didn’t look too bad, and he even had time to grab some breakfast before leaving. He walked to catch his train, eyes not shifting away from the game he was playing. 

His first day continued to go well, at least by Kenma’s standards. The school was huge, but he found his way around easily enough, and the other kids left him alone. The classes weren’t anything he couldn’t handle, and before he knew it, the day was halfway through and he was sitting in the corner of the classroom on break. 

He slowly ate his lunch before getting up and heading to the restroom. He checked his teeth, washed his hands, and turned around. 

If his reflexes hadn’t been so quick, he would have smacked straight into the person behind him. As it was, he stepped neatly to the side and tilted his head up so he could mumble an apology and rush out. 

And then he was looking straight at Kuroo. 

His first emotion, surprisingly enough, was  _ annoyance _ . Kuroo was at least half a foot taller than him. They had never varied more than a few centimeters in height, and Kenma despised the fact that Kuroo was quite literally looking down at him. 

“Kuroo.” He considered for a moment before forcing himself into a slight bow. “Senpai.” 

It was a low blow, and Kenma knew it. He couldn’t remember a time where Kuroo and he had  _ ever _ used honorifics. Kuroo didn’t react, however, aside from a slight tightening of his jaw that would have gone unnoticed by anyone except Kenma. 

“Hey.”

Kenma didn’t respond and instead took a moment to analyze Kuroo. 

He changed, that was for sure. They hadn’t talked in nearly two years, and in that time, Kuroo’s voice had become a low rumble. He was bigger now - he had been skinny throughout middle school, but from what Kenma could tell through Kuroo’s dress shirt, he gained quite a bit of muscle since then. Most unsettling, though, was his presence itself. Kuroo used to be like Kenma. Quiet. Gentle. Calm. 

Now, however, he took up the entire room. It was the way he held himself, Kenma realized. He kept his head held high and shoulders pushed back. It was a position that would show anyone in the room that he was the boss, the one in charge, no questions asked. 

It scared Kenma, just a little. 

He realized Kuroo was still waiting for an answer. “Hi.” 

Kuroo was looking at him like he wanted Kenma to say something more, to let the conversation flow like it used to. Kenma refused to comply.  _ I’m still angry _ , he reminded himself.  _ What he did wasn’t right. _

Kenma didn’t say anything, but Kuroo was shifting, as though he were looking for something to say. His face settled into something determined and Kenma waited patiently. 

The bell rang. Kuroo sighed. 

“I’ll see you around, I suppose.” He slunk out of the bathroom as quietly as he had come in. 

Kenma groaned and put his head in his hands. Kuroo had been about to apologize. And Kenma, the dumbass that he was, would have forgiven him. 

He looked in the mirror and tried to call back his anger. It was there, beneath the surface, but it had weakened when he saw Kuroo again. 

It wasn’t as if they had completely lost contact. They lived in the same neighborhood, and when they ran into each other on occasion, their exchanges were never rude. They just never went past a nod or a simple “hello”. 

Kenma knew he should be angry, but he wasn’t good at holding onto  _ any _ emotion for too long. He sighed and splashed some water on his face. 

“Get yourself together,” he told his reflection. 

It didn’t respond. 

After a week, Kenma had settled into a routine. He liked routine - liked getting up at the same time every day, catching the same train, going to the same classes.

And then it was interrupted, and he was kind of pissed, because said week had actually been going really well. 

He got a 72% on an exam he had been sure he’d failed, he had lost his blazer that morning but found it in time to make the train, and the weather had been cooling down, which Kenma appreciated. He hated the heat. 

It happened right after school. Kenma was walking through the hallways - slowly, because he was balancing his game on his palm, one hand trying to beat the level while the other searched in his bag for his keys. He fumbled for a minute and had just accepted that he would have to ask the neighbors for their spare when he heard footsteps behind him. 

The only thing Kenma caught a glimpse of was a pair of big brown eyes before his arm was being pulled out of its socket, a hand in his own dragging him through the hallway. The hand was attached to a boy who was slightly shorter than Kenma but  _ much  _ stronger and currently talking a mile a minute. 

“And so I saw you, and I was like,  _ woah! _ Cause you kicked my team’s  _ ass! _ And you were so cool, too! But then I didn’t see you the next year or the next so I assumed you had just moved or something but then I saw you in the hall and was like,  _ why isn’t he playing _ but we aren’t really known for our team so I thought you might just not realize we had one and-”

Kenma nearly tripped over his own feet before wrenching his arm free. “I’m sorry, who are you again?” 

The other boy wasn’t put off. “I’m Yaku! I’m a second year.”

“And what do you want me for?”

“To play volleyball!”

Kenma stopped dead. “To what?”

Yaku peered up at him. “Voll-ey-ball? The sport?”

The younger boy almost laughed. “I think that ship has already sailed.”

“Please! Come on. We need a setter.”

“Then why weren’t you advertising?”

“ The third years are assholes. They’re too proud to admit they’re not good enough.”

“I don’t have my shoes.”

“Okay, look.” Yaku sighed, the animated smile disappearing from his face. “I can’t make you. But you could be really, really good if you wanted. And our team could really use you.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. 

It wasn’t that Kenma disliked volleyball. In fact, sometimes he missed it - missed how it felt to win a game, or to rack his brains for a single scenario that would get them the point. It relieved stress for him, in a strange sort of way, a way to release everything he had held back without having to speak. 

And because he was a first-year, it was expected that he would join some type of club anyway...

“Fine. Where’s the contract?”

Yaku beamed. 

\--

Kenma sat at his desk, one leg folded underneath him, and sighed. He had flat-out refused to go to the volleyball practice, but he did take a contract from Yaku, who seemed pleased enough as Kenma walked away. 

He thought, briefly, of how ridiculous it was that he was currently in the process of creating his own demise. 

The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. He hadn’t played volleyball in two years. The sport itself was riddled with bad memories and hurt feelings. And playing on the volleyball team would mean a whole new slew of people he would have to navigate around. 

There was no good reason for him to start playing again, but here he was, signing his name on the dotted line because apparently Kenma enjoyed self-destruction. 

He sighed and pulled out his phone. 

The next morning, he slipped his shoes - that still, surprisingly, fit - into his bag before going to school. His classes, which normally were tolerable at worst and interesting at best, dragged on, stretching longer than they ever had before. 

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was just volleyball. He had played volleyball before. But even so, he had to force himself to walk at a normal pace after the bell rang. 

He changed into practice clothes quickly and entered the gym as quietly as he could. A few people were there, already stretching. Kenma sighed slightly as he saw Yaku, handing him the form and getting down to stretch. 

Kuroo was sitting on the ground, forehead touching his knees. He straightened up as he heard the sound of someone walking over, preparing to greet them, but stopped short as he and Kenma locked eyes. 

Kenma sat down and stretched his arms over his head. “Hi.”

Kuroo just looked at him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

There it was again. Even in the quiet of the gym, Kuroo’s tone made it clear that something about him had changed in the years since they had last spoken. 

“Oh. I guess. It was kind of last minute.” He drew his knees to his chest, nervousness clawing at him as the rest of the team began to filter into the gym, a few giving him suspicious looks, and hoped Kuroo wouldn’t notice his apprehension. 

Kuroo noticed. “Is it okay if I introduce you? They’re probably just curious. We only had a couple of new people this year.”

Kenma nodded and tried to call back the anger that had been there just a few days ago in the bathroom, but it seemed to have taken leave. He felt nothing but gratitude, now, that Kuroo still remembered that he hated introducing himself. 

“This is Kenma! He’s going to be training to be our setter. He’s new, so be nice to him, okay?” Kuroo’s lips stretched into a catlike grin, daring someone to argue. 

Kenma gave them a small wave as he examined the rest of the team. Some of them looked surprised, but most just seemed apathetic. A few even appeared to be excited about the prospect of having someone new on the team. 

However, their eyes showed one singular expression across the board. 

Respect. 

Kenma knew it wasn’t aimed at him. He was a skinny first-year, and he already knew that they were wondering why  _ he, _ of all people, would be the setter. These were just the facts: they didn’t upset him anymore. 

But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, so as practice started, Kenma continued to observe the team as he and Yaku hit the ball to each other. 

It was halfway through when he realized that it was Kuroo. 

He knew that he had changed in stature, and in voice, and even in how he took over the room when they had met earlier that week. But there was something else. The way the rest of the team listened to him without a second thought, immediately started drills when Kuroo barked out the orders, and watched him out of the corner of their eyes when they messed up. 

Kenma didn’t know what it was, but Kuroo had gotten the respect of not only the first years on the team, but the second years as well. 

If he hadn’t had the same stupid hair and sharp jaw, Kenma wouldn’t have believed this was the same person who had cried because he killed a moth in elementary school and had comforted Kenma before his first day. 

Something about it unsettled Kenma so deeply that the next ball Yaku threw landed squarely on his head. 

Kenma winced, a few people behind them breaking into laughter while Yaku apologized fervently. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his head and refusing to turn around and see who the people laughing were. 

It wasn’t mean-spirited. Kenma knew the difference between people laughing at him and with him, and he felt something warm in his chest when he realized it was the latter. 

\--

Kenma never really minded when his parents worked late. It meant he got the TV to himself, he didn’t have to spend too long at the family’s dinner table, and there was no one around to scold him when he stayed up until midnight to play video games. 

Naturally, when someone knocked on the door around 8 PM, Kenma’s first thought was  _ oh fuck _ because the dishes were still stacked in the sink, his homework wasn’t done, and he was in the middle of playing a battle on the TV. His mom was going to kill him. 

When he opened the door to find Kuroo, he almost wished that it had been one of his parents instead. 

“Can I come in?”

A few years ago, Kuroo wouldn’t have even asked. He would have walked into the house like it was his own, maybe grabbed some food, and greeted Kenma’s parents before going to find him. 

Kenma stepped aside. “Okay.” 

Kuroo wasn’t with his team, but he still held a confident air about him as he walked over to sit on the couch. Kenma followed him, almost on instinct, and had to refrain from curling up next to Kuroo like they did when they were kids. 

“This place hasn’t changed at all.” Kuroo was looking around, but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t just here for friendly conversation. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “What do you want?”

Kuroo sighed. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be on the volleyball team.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have had the chance, would I?” Kenma’s sharp tone surprised even him. 

“Look.” Kuroo fidgeted with his hands. “I guess I came over here to apologize.”

“What?” He hadn’t meant to sound so shocked. 

“Kenma, I was an asshole. You know it, and I knew it too.”

“Yeah. You were.” 

“I didn’t know what to do about the rest of the team. They didn’t listen to me.”

Kenma shifted in his chair, something uncomfortable settling over him. “Kuroo, I just want to know why you didn’t say anything.”

“I was scared.” Kuroo closed his eyes as if that would make the admission easier. “I was scared that they would start to treat me the same way. So I guess I just-”

“Yeah.” Kenma’s anger was slipping away. Something unpleasant remained, but he knew that, for this event at least, Kuroo was in the clear. 

“I’m sorry. I knew you were hurting, and I didn’t think you wanted me to help, or that I could…” And  _ fuck _ , there were tears in Kuroo’s eyes and Kenma knew his resolve was as good as gone. 

  
“Why are you crying? Isn’t that my job?” 

“Kenma, jesus.” Kuroo let out a shaky laugh. “Just tell me how to make it up to you. I’ll make sure no one on the team is rude. I’ll help you practice. I’ll, I don’t know, what do you want?”

“Yeah, you seem pretty good at telling the team what to do,” Kenma muttered. And oh. That was it. 

He was jealous, perhaps. Jealous of the iron fist that Kuroo held over the team, despite only being a second year. Jealous of the way they all looked up to him. Jealous of the way no one would ever even dream of making fun of him. 

“Oh, you noticed?” Kuroo chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess they like me. Why, though, I can’t really say.”

“It’s because you have talent.” Kenma was looking at his hands now, rather than Kuroo’s face. “They know that. They respect you for it.” 

“Kenma, I promise that this team isn’t anything like middle school. We rely on each other. The first and second years, at least, are pretty close.” 

“I don’t know if they’ll want to get close to me,” Kenma admitted. 

“They will. They want to figure you out. I think they’re more scared that you won’t like them.”

“Well, maybe that’s valid.” Kuroo laughed again at that, maybe a little harder than necessary, but Kenma appreciated the effort. 

There was a moment of silence, but Kenma knew that Kuroo wasn’t done. 

“In middle school, they got really mad at me, once,” Kuroo admitted. “They asked me if I was going to keep bringing you to practice, and I said yes, and they all started shouting.” He smiled. “One of them actually tried to hit me.” 

“You helped.” Kenma remembered the time that he had almost passed out from a volleyball to the face and had woken up to Kuroo kneeling over him. “You cared, when it mattered.”

“But not enough.” Kuroo sighed. “I didn’t know what to do, about how they treated you. But if it helps, they weren’t my biggest fans either.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t notice?” Kuroo laughed. “They weren’t about to make me do extra laps, but let’s just say I wasn’t invited to the celebration after our last match.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Well, that was after, you know.” 

After they had stopped talking. 

Kenma knew. “Yeah. It’s been a while.” 

“It has. But if we’re going to be on the same team, what do you say we make a second attempt?” Kuroo’s voice was self-assured again, filling the room. Kenma couldn’t figure out how he felt about what he had decided to call New Kuroo. 

He decided to give it a chance. “Okay.” 

“We’re cool?” Kuroo stuck his hand out and Kenma shook it. 

“We’re cool.” 

A few years ago, Kenma would have asked Kuroo to stay longer, play a couple of games, maybe watch a movie or help him with homework he hadn’t understood. They would have fallen asleep on the couch until Kenma’s mom kicked him out or Kuroo’s mom called, ready to berate her son for coming home late. 

But their friendship was still fragile, and Kenma didn’t want to jeopardize it yet, so he settled for waving a soft goodbye before closing the door. 

Things wouldn’t go back to the way they used to be, but maybe it was a start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there u have it,,, 
> 
> probably going to be posting the next chapter sometime this week, maybe Thursday or Friday? whatever yall want honestly 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading! stay safe, stay healthy and know that you are loved.


	4. Chapter 4

Kenma soon came to find that while high school volleyball wasn’t much worse than middle school, it wasn’t much better, either. 

He and one of the other first years, one with a loud voice and a name Kenma couldn’t remember, butted heads most of the time, but they were never rude to each other. The other, Fukunaga, got along with Kenma by way of comfortable silences and muted looks when the former got too loud. 

The second years didn’t seem to mind him either. Maybe Kuroo had said something, or maybe they were just more personable, but they didn’t immediately push Kenma away. They seemed like they wanted to take the time to figure him out. 

Which left the third years. 

They weren’t awful. 

But at the same time, he had thought his days of being pushed around in middle school were over. 

They made him and the other first years clean up the gym after practice as they lounged around and pick up balls he hadn’t thrown. Occasionally, he was made to run extra laps. 

It wasn’t the labor itself that threw Kenma off. As out of shape as he was, he was a teenage boy - he could handle a few kilometers of running. 

No, the problem was his pride. 

Kenma had simply had enough of being treated as something disposable, someone who’s only job was to be of service. He wanted to do things for himself. He no longer was willing to lie back while others mocked him. 

Perhaps the time had come to stand up for himself. 

He was so lost in this thought one day after practice, he didn’t hear Yaku until the boy was right next to him. 

“Kenma. Are you listening?”

He turned around. “What?”

“Well, we're all going to go get some food when everyone is ready to leave. Do you want to come?”

Kenma took a survey of the locker room. Kuroo and Fukunaga were already waiting by the door. Kai, another second year, was stuffing his shoes in his bag. 

“Without the third years! They’re doing some super-important team thing anyway.” Yaku rolled his eyes and Kenma bit back a laugh before making eye contact with Kuroo. 

Kuroo looked back at Kenma and raised an eyebrow. His expression was soft and relieved and slightly hopeful and Kenma made up his mind.

“Okay.”

Yaku cheered and threw his bag over his shoulder, urging Yamamoto - the loud boy whose name Kenma always forgot - to hurry. They decided on a ramen place just down the street, sitting down and murmuring a thanks before digging into their meals. 

For a few minutes, they ate in silence before Yaku broke through it, his voice quieter than normal. 

“They’re always like that, you know. The third years.”

Kuroo chimed in. “He’s right! They were even like that when we were first years. They’re insane.” 

“Really?” Kenma murmured quietly, half expecting no one to hear. 

“Yeah! They think they’re so cool, just because they’re older,” Yaku blurted. Kenma struggled to keep a straight face at the sight of someone insulting their senpai so openly. “They don’t get that picking on first years isn’t going to make them any better.”

“So that’s why they’re so…”

“Mean? Yeah! I think they’re actually kind of worried about you,” chuckled Yaku. “The setter especially. He hasn’t had any competition at all for his position.” 

“He thinks I’m competition?”

“Yeah! And you are, I mean, we’ve all seen your sets!” Yaku pretended to drop his voice. “For the record, though… considering he would probably struggle to tell apart a circle and a square, I’d say you’re already in the lead.” 

Kenma shifted awkwardly. It was lucky that that was the moment Yamamoto decided to put his elbow directly into the bowl in front of him, causing the rest of the team to burst out laughing and taking the attention away from Kenma, who had turned red behind his hair. 

He had to concentrate on not letting a giddy grin bloom on his face as laughter spilled over the table. Something warm filled his chest, spreading throughout his body, and it felt like his heart was about to burst from how full it was. 

Oh. So this was what it was like, to be part of a real team. 

As Yaku put Yamamoto into a headlock and Kuroo yelled at them to settle down before they got kicked out, Kenma allowed himself a small smile. 

He had thought it was a one-time thing, but after that, Fridays quickly turned into bonding days with the first and second years. They would go out to a restaurant or a convenience store or even just sit around and talk. 

Kenma learned a lot about his teammates over the next couple of months. 

He learned that Yaku and Kuroo had hated each other when they first joined the team. He learned that Yamamoto, after you broke through his tough exterior, was sweet and sympathetic and terrified of talking to girls. He learned that Fukunaga was allergic to strawberries and Kai was scared of heights. 

And in return, they learned about him. Kenma had always been quiet, and not one to openly volunteer information, but they managed to wheedle it out of him in bits and pieces. How he played video games to calm himself down and got fevers if he worked himself too hard during matches, and stopped playing for two years because of how he was treated in middle school. 

When he talked, they listened. Kenma wasn’t used to that. He was used to being ignored, shut out, and pushed to the side for someone more interesting or loud or important. But his teammates paid attention, and he could see in their eyes that they cared about what he had to say. 

“Even if the third years are like that now,” Yaku said after Kenma had told his story of quitting, “It won’t be like that forever. So don’t go running off, okay?”

Kenma promised he wouldn’t, and this time, he actually believed it. 

The third years were still rude and bossy and yelled at him sometimes, but Kenma could take it. He worked through it, because he knew that once he made it through this year, he would have people that had his back. 

He still didn’t look forward to practices much, because they exhausted him, and he didn’t look forward to the games either at first. Most of them consisted of him shifting from foot to foot, watching their third-year setter play and not quite knowing if he wanted to be called in or not. 

That was until his coach beckoned him over one day.

“I wanted to ask if you would be alright with playing during one set in the upcoming game. I’ve noticed that you’re quickly improving, and I would like to see you in action before the year is out.” 

Kenma looked at the coach, then at the current third year setter next hovering nearby, whose face betrayed that he was not at all pleased about this recent turn of events. 

Kenma faced downwards to examine his shoes. “Okay.” 

After practice that day, the first and second years cheered so loud that it echoed back around them, clapping him on the back and congratulating him over and over. It more than made up for the death glare and extra laps the third year had given him prior. 

The first game Kenma played was exhausting. He hated the way his muscles ached afterward, and how he was forced to focus on every movement, both of the other team and his own, and decide how to best cover their flaws. 

They won. He knew they would, and the whole game left him generally underwhelmed. But seeing his teammates yelling and cheering about their victory was pretty nice. And when they pulled him into a group hug, even though he pretended to hate it, that was nice too. 

His coach, thoroughly motivated by his first performance, started giving him more and more playing time. His team started to trust him more. They celebrated their victories and mourned their losses and Kenma was having fun. 

They made it into the top eight in Inter-High championships but got knocked out by a powerhouse school soon after. The third years were noticeably upset. The first and second years thanked them and then went off on their own for a celebration dinner. 

“Next year is going to be  _ incredible, _ ” said Kuroo. “Just wait and see.” 

He was visibly excited, of course. He had been chosen as captain a few days prior and had been a bit louder, tougher, more talkative since then. As sad as most of the team was about losing the game, they were even more motivated for the next year. 

Kenma looked around. He no longer had to worry about the third years. 

_ These  _ people were his team now. They would care about him, and listen to him, and trust his strategies in a way that the third years never did. 

And despite his loss, Kenma felt something strangely close to excitement flare up inside him. 

\--

Kuroo showed up to his door on the first day of summer with a volleyball in hand. 

“I know you aren’t big on practicing when it’s hot, but you gotta stay in shape.” At Kenma’s skeptical look, he sighed. “I’m a third year! And the captain. I need to make sure people still will respect me.” 

“They’d do that no matter how bad you were,” Kenma muttered, but he was already pulling his shoes on. It was very difficult to say no to Kuroo, had been ever since he had joined the high school team. 

The silence they walked in wasn’t completely comfortable, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Kenma had grown more at ease around New Kuroo throughout the year. They had started talking again, first with the group, and soon enough they had been texting and Kenma had even gone to Kuroo’s with homework questions once or twice and although it had been awkward at times, it was worth it to be able to talk to his friend again. 

They still didn’t see each other on the commute to school. Kenma learned it was because Kuroo went to morning practices every day like the insane man that he was. 

“You’re crazy,” Kenma stated matter-of-factly when Kuroo first told him. “Why do you do that to yourself?”

“It’s called  _ dedication _ , and you’re gonna have to learn it soon enough,” Kuroo had retorted. 

The park was crowded, but Kuroo found them a space to bump the ball back and forth. It wasn’t anything new, but Kenma had started to enjoy even the simplest of moments with his friend. He would never admit it, but he was pleased they were hanging out again. Happy that Kuroo even still considered him someone worthy to hang out with. 

This thought threw Kenma off his game, just a little, and he called off practice after only an hour. Kuroo agreed easily enough. He was probably grateful he had been able to convince Kenma to come outside at all. 

“Kuroo,” he said as they stopped outside Kenma’s front door. “Do you want to watch a movie? Or something?” 

Apart from those few instances where Kuroo had helped him with homework and when he had come over to apologize, they hadn’t hung out one-on-one at all. 

But Kuroo just broke into a smile. “Sure.” 

Kenma led them into his house, going upstairs to shower and insisting that Kuroo choose the film. By the time he got out, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a soft shirt with his hair still damp, Kuroo had chosen a stupid comedy movie that they had both watched several times before and was tapping the arm of the couch impatiently. 

Kenma sat down a few feet away, making sure to keep his distance, giving Kuroo room to leave if he got too uncomfortable. But the older boy was already leaning back and letting himself take up space on the couch, sighing as the movie started. 

He tried to pay attention. It was one of Kuroo’s favorite movies - a classic for when he came over when they both were younger. Kenma didn’t mind the film, and it was usually easy to lose himself in it, but he couldn’t help but fixate on the fact that Kuroo was sitting just a few feet away. 

He should feel comfortable - it had always been comfortable. But Kenma was so afraid he would do something weird and Kuroo would decide that he was tired, that this had been a bad idea and he would go home. 

Kenma really, really didn’t want him to go home. 

Kuroo was just so  _ different _ now. He was calmer and more collected and open and reassuring. Over the past few months, Kenma had become correctly acquainted with the New Kuroo and realized that he truly had changed. 

And Kenma, well, Kenma was still the same. He had grown a few inches, sure, but he was still shy and socially inept. He still hid behind his hair when people spoke to him and got nervous in new situations. 

Old Kuroo had been shy, perhaps more than him, and Kenma knew that they could be there for each other because of that. But New Kuroo could have all the friends he wanted. He probably did. He probably had friends that ate lunch with him and hung out with him and understood him better than Kenma did. He probably had girls confessing to him left, right, and center. 

Kenma tucked his knees up to his chest, upset by this newfound realization. Why was Kuroo wasting his time hanging out with Kenma at all? Was he turning down better options, better friends, people that were closer to him?

It was probably because he felt bad for Kenma. 

“Are you okay?” Kuroo was now looking over at him and the hunched position he had taken.

“I’m okay.”

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo paused the movie.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Kuroo.” 

He poked Kenma’s arm. “You expect me to believe that? Come on. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” Kenma sighed, letting his legs drop. “Why are you hanging out with me?”

“Because you asked? What?”

“I just mean,” Kenma closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Because!” Embarrassment washed over him. He didn’t know why he was so upset. “You have so many cooler older friends and you’re just hanging out with a second year and you have other things you could be doing. So I don’t know if this is pity, or what, but-”

“Kenma,” Kuroo interrupted, “You’re being ridiculous. I like movies and I like hanging out with you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“But you’re so much better now.” Kenma let himself fall back on the couch. “Better than me.” 

Kuroo looked genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re just so different. You’ve grown as a person.” He pressed his fingertips to his temples. “The whole world is moving on, and I’m the same person I was.” 

Kuroo actually threw his head back and laughed at that. “Seriously?” He got a better look at Kenma’s face and seemed to compose himself. “Oh, wow. You are serious. Okay. You actually believe that?” 

Kenma just looked at him. 

“Kenma, dude. You’re going to be the main setter next year. You hang out with people every Friday. Kai and Yaku think you’re awesome. I mean shit, man, you dyed your hair.” He twisted one of Kenma’s now bottle-blonde locks. “Whatever happened, there’s no way that you haven’t changed since last year.” 

Kenma’s chest grew warm again. “And what about you?” he said, forcing his tone to be light and teasing. “Do you think I’m awesome?” 

Kuroo smiled. “I think you’re cooler than I’m ever gonna be.” 

Kenma groaned in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands. “Okay, okay, jesus.” He sighed. “I am sorry, though. If it feels like I made you come here tonight. We don’t have to hang out just because we’re teammates.” 

“Kenma, you didn’t,” Kuroo said. “I’m glad we’re hanging out again. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Kenma mumbled, words muffled by his hands still covering his face.

“Kenma!” Kuroo placed a hand over his chest, feigning shock. “I always knew you had a heart!”

“Shut up.” Kenma unpaused the movie, feeling significantly more relaxed than he had a few minutes prior. 

He was still aware of Kuroo sitting next to him, but it was better than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for going MIA i was crying over the timeskip
> 
> for some reason, I'm losing motivation for this story? it's already all written so don't worry about me abandoning it but i'm going to try and get the last 2 chapters out quickly so i can start working on some new stuff. 
> 
> anyway, if you're still reading, thank you!!! i know my uploading schedule has been literally awful so i appreciate you sticking around. this chapter was mostly a filler but next time we have TRAINING CAMP! very fun. very exciting. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated. stay safe, stay healthy, and know that you're important and loved!


	5. Chapter 5

Kenma was a second year before he knew what had happened. 

Summer passed unreasonably quickly. Kuroo and he had begun to hang out more often. Some days - most days actually - Kenma would refuse to go out, insisting that it was his break and he called the shots and convincing Kuroo to play a game or watch a show with him instead or even compromising by putting on an old match. 

Occasionally, they would go to the park and practice volleyball, sometimes meeting up with the team to go over drills. Kuroo was relaxed even during these, but Kenma was sure that would change once school began. Even so, he could tell that their team was going to be stronger than last year. 

He and Kuroo got closer. He learned everything he had missed in those few years they stopped talking. Kuroo had been named captain in his third year of middle school and made their team into one that went to the middle school spring tournament. He had almost failed one of his classes last year because he kept falling asleep. He had dated a girl briefly, but they hadn’t worked out. 

Over the summer, their friendship strengthened. 

Things weren’t how they used to be, but Kenma didn’t mind the way they were now. 

And soon enough, he was tripping over his own feet on his first day as a second year, not yet used to being up so early. He found his uniform, his volleyball shoes, and was in the process of brushing out his hair when someone came thundering up the stairs and into his room. 

“Jesus christ.” Kenma’s stomach dropped so suddenly that he felt queasy. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Making sure my little second year has all his things, of course!” Kuroo pinched Kenma’s cheek, causing the latter to wrinkle his nose and push Kuroo’s hand away. “Do you have your lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“Your books?”

“Yes.”

“Your practice clothes?”

“I have everything I need, Kuroo.” Kenma sighed, turned out his collar, and headed downstairs. His parents had already left for work, so he grabbed an apple and his bag before going to put his shoes on. “Are you coming?”

Kuroo nodded and they walked to the train station together. Kenma got on first and sat in an open seat. 

Kuroo sat down next to him, and Kenma buried his smile behind his handheld game. 

The first week of school passed quickly. His classes weren’t difficult, and he found that with Kuroo and a few friends in his year from volleyball helping him, his marks improved. Volleyball itself was much easier now that the third years were gone, and Kenma realized he didn’t really mind practices anymore. Sometimes, he even looked forward to them.

Just a little.

Maybe.

He had never been out of shape, but volleyball season made Kenma stronger. It forced him to eat right and stop staying up so late. It made him take care of his own body, and as a result, he felt better than ever. 

Kuroo being the captain, however, was something else entirely. 

Everyone listened to him, no matter what. They looked up immediately when he walked into the gym. They valued his opinions above all else. And they always, always wanted to impress him, whether it be with a new toss or block or a sharp receive. When Kuroo handed out compliments, it made his teammates absolutely  _ glow _ . 

The whole thing caused Kenma to feel a bit strange. Perhaps it was because he had known Kuroo so long, or maybe he was still wary of their friendship, but Kuroo getting close to the other members of the team made something unpleasant twist in his gut. 

It was stupid and he knew it, because that was Kuroo’s  _ job. _ To make sure everyone in the team worked well together and trusted each other. So he pushed the jealousy down and instead began practicing harder and running quicker and building his stamina, if only a little.

And so he had a routine, and he was content with the way things were going, and he thought that if the year continued like this, it might be a pretty good one. 

And then he met Shouyou Hinata. 

Kenma was never the greatest in new places, so when he found himself in the middle of nowhere with no one around him, he wasn’t too concerned. He sent off a text to Kuroo with his location, knowing that the older boy would soon be there to get him, and settled for playing a stupid game on his phone. He had just gotten comfortable when a loud voice interrupted him.

Shouyou was loud and enthusiastic and would normally have been the type of person to annoy him instantly. But something about him was different. Maybe it was his hair, or face, or the way his eyes lit up when Kenma gave him any sort of response, but Kenma didn’t mind his lack of filter.

He found that he actually liked talking to Shouyou, and when Kuroo picked him up, he had a split second where he thought to ask for Hinata’s number or ask him to walk with them or do anything so they could keep talking. He couldn’t remember the last time he had connected with someone like this without a cocktail of awkward pauses, conversations, and time. 

But then he saw Shouyou’s shirt and realized they would be seeing each other soon enough, anyway. Not only that, but he was excited to see him, to watch what he played like, to figure out if his jumps were as good as he claimed. He was almost excited about the game. 

And sure enough, playing with Karasuno - with  _ Hinata _ \- the next day was fun. Shouyou glowed when he hit the ball, when he attempted a block, when he did almost anything. Kenma was apathetic about the game itself, but it was the first time in a long time he had felt rivaled. 

As he took the train home that day, he knew something had changed. He just couldn’t tell what, and told Kuroo as much. 

“It’s probably the shortie. You two really seemed to hit it off.” 

He was right, of course. Kenma just needed to figure out  _ why. _ Shouyou had been kind and accepting, and he hadn’t seemed to mind or even notice Kenma’s one-word answers. And it wasn’t like he had asked Kenma to be friends - there was an assumption there that, despite never meeting, they already were. But most of all, Shouyou reminded him of Kuroo, if only because of his endless energy and pure enthusiasm. 

Just a little. 

And because of that, Kenma found himself looking forward to their annual training camp more than ever. 

\--

Kenma had gone to the training camp last year, and he had fucking hated it. He hated having to run penalties, and the mosquitoes, and the way that everyone else would stay behind to practice even more and make him feel guilty, but not guilty enough to do any extra practice himself. 

This year, however, he was almost smiling as the Karasuno bus pulled up. He and Shouyou had texted late into the night before, Hinata trying to ask him about his team’s new positions and plays and what the training camp would entail and Kenma giving the shortest answers he could. Shouyou never seemed to mind. 

Kuroo slung an arm across Kenma’s shoulders. “You excited?”

Kenma tensed for a moment before relaxing and hoped Kuroo hadn’t noticed. That had been happening a lot lately - Kuroo’s touches had started to ignite the same uneasy feeling that he got when Kuroo was giving compliments on the court. Kuroo had always been a touchy person, ever since they were kids, and it had never bothered him before. It was another result of their friendship still being so new and Kenma being so wary of it. 

He watched the Karasuno players getting off the bus, searching for the mop of orange hair. “Yeah. I am.” 

Shouyou wasn’t coming until later, he found out soon after, and the games were exhausting and the penalties were long and there was no chance for a real conversation until after dinner, when they were both clean and the room was warm and Hinata was leaning his head on Kenma’s shoulder, watching him play a game on his handheld. 

Were it anyone else, Kenma would have bitten their head off, but somehow, with Shouyou, it felt natural. He had been afraid that things would be awkward and they wouldn’t get along as well as they had the first time they met, but he needn’t have worried. 

“...and Tanaka got his head stuck  _ in _ the bucket. And it took, like, 15 minutes to get him out!” Shoyo finished a story that Kenma had only been half-listening to. 

“Hmm.” 

“What about you?” Hinata sat up and regarded him with wide brown eyes. “Has anything new happened?”

“Not really.” Kenma paused for a moment to press a button furiously, releasing a combo that drained almost all his opponent’s energy. “Just school, volleyball, the usual.”

“Volleyball? Like those new combos you refuse to tell me about? Because I’m all ears, you know.”

“Shut up.” Kenma ducked behind his hair, focusing back on his game and prompting Hinata to whine and poke Kenma and yell about how  _ unfair _ he was being. 

Kenma got used to the training camp schedule rather quickly. He would wake up and eat breakfast with his team before going to play a few practice matches. Then they would have lunch, usually sitting on the steps of the school entrance, and talk about the games they had just played. After that there were more practice matches, a few drills, then dinner and a couple of hours to relax before they went to bed. Kenma tried as hard as he could to split his time evenly between his team, Kuroo, and Shouyou. 

He found that he liked spending time with Shouyou. He had never felt inclined to spend time with anyone besides Kuroo, much less been the one to suggest it, but Shoyo was kind and bright and smelled like oranges. He would let Kenma put his head on Shouyou’s lap and play a game after a particularly long training day and understood when he didn’t want to talk. 

It was almost relaxing, playing a game, Shouyou carding his fingers through Kenma’s hair and rambling about nothing, Kenma allowing Shouyou’s voice to wash over him and not feeling inclined to listen. 

Being with Shouyou felt safe. 

If Shouyou was safe, though, being with Kuroo was like stepping on a field of landmines. While Kenma felt relaxed when Shouyou touched his hair, Kuroo doing the same sent spikes of panic through him. His touches, his compliments, even him looking at Kenma the wrong way made Kenma start sweating and looking for somewhere to hide. 

He knew, realistically, it was stupid to be so nervous over a new friendship. They had known each other for so long, and he shouldn’t be acting like a child anymore. But his body didn’t seem to want to listen. 

Kenma was going a little insane. And when Shouyou interrupted one of his games to ask him why he looked so “off-balance”, something snapped. 

“Shouyou, can I talk to you about something?”

Hinata looked surprised. Kenma wasn’t usually the one to start or even participate in conversation. “Of course.”

“I’m scared that Kuroo isn’t going to want to be friends with me anymore.”

“Kuroo? Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Kenma put his handheld down and sighed, Hinata’s arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders. “I know it’s stupid, but I’m still so nervous around him. I know by now he’s my friend because he wants to be, and it’s so dumb that I’m intimidated by him, and I don’t know what to do.” 

“But haven’t you guys known each other since you were like… kids? Why would he scare you?” 

Kenma took a deep breath. 

And then he told the whole story. How he and Kuroo had stopped talking, and how he had almost quit volleyball, and how New Kuroo had been such a shock for him when all he had known was the scared, shy child that Kuroo used to be. 

“Wow,” was all Hinata said when Kenma was finished. He hadn’t said a word during the story. 

“Yeah.” 

“So you’re just nervous around him now? Even though you’re friends again?”

Kenma sighed. “It’s strange. My brain is comfortable around him, but it just makes me feel so weird.” 

“What does it make you feel like?” 

“Like… I don’t know.” Kenma thought for a second. “My stomach hurts a lot. And my heart starts beating really fast.” 

“Huh.” Shouyou was quiet for a moment. “Kenma, I’m going to say something, and I need you not to kill me.”

The request made the corners of Kenma’s mouth turn up. “Okay.”

“Do you think you might have a crush on Kuroo?” 

Kenma was caught off guard for a moment. “No. That’s stupid.” He glared at Shouyou. 

“Calm down! It’s an honest question. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Yeah, but Kuroo is… he’s  _ Kuroo. _ ” Kenma was aware Kuroo was physically attractive - he wasn’t blind. But this was the same Kuroo that had knocked out a tooth by running headfirst into a door and had gotten a wad of gum tangled in his hair, causing him to bawl while Kenma’s mom cut it out with scissors. He had been such a significant part of Kenma’s life, and Kenma didn’t know if he could handle another change. 

“I guess.” Shouyou, probably sensing how uncomfortable Kenma was, let the subject drop and went back to running his hands through Kenma’s hair. Kenma allowed it to slip from his mind and put his handheld down, letting his eyes close as Shouyou’s nails scratched against his scalp, exhaustion overcoming him. 

He woke up the next morning in his own futon, feeling surprisingly happy and rested despite the fact that he was in the middle of a high-intensity training camp. Someone must have carried him, and he sent a silent thanks that no one had disturbed him while he slept. 

He was, however, running late, one of the first years being the only other person left in the room. He changed quickly before sprinting out to get breakfast. The team was already there, and he had just enough time to eat a couple of pieces of toast before their coach was telling them to get to the gym. 

Their first match was with Fukurodani. Kenma hated playing against them, mostly because of Bokuto sent spikes that Kenma didn’t put past breaking his arms. The game progressed slowly, both teams having entirely too much stamina for a practice match. The score was 9-10, in Fukorodani’s favor, and Akaashi had just set to Bokuto. 

And then several things happened at once. 

Bokuto hit a powerful, deadly spike. Kenma watched his team form a double block, trying to gauge if they would smash it down or if it would be a one-touch. He watched Kuroo’s lithe form jump, watched his head tip forward as he raised his arms, and caught a glimpse of his eyes, dark and wild and absolutely  _ beautiful. _

Shouyou’s words played in his head. “ _ Do you think you might have a crush on Kuroo?” _

Oh.

_ Oh, fuck. _

And that was Kenma’s last thought before the ball ricocheted off the blocker’s hands and collided directly with his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. we're in the home stretch! i'll try and get the last chapter out tomorrow. as always, thank you for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated! stay safe, stay healthy and know that you're loved <3


	6. Chapter 6

“Goddammit.” Kenma shifted the ice pack so it was covering his temple and winced. 

“How’s your head feeling?” Shouyou asked. Kenma had his eyes closed, but he heard the frown in the other boy’s voice. 

“Not great.” 

Kenma hadn’t passed out after he got hit, but it was a close call. Since the match hadn’t technically been interrupted, Nekoma had to continue to play. However, Karasuno had finished their matches for the day, which prompted Shouyou to volunteer to take Kenma back to the room they all slept in. 

Kenma lay back, allowing the ice pack to slip over his forehead, where a bump was quickly forming. He’d probably have a black eye by tomorrow. Bokutou’s spikes were nothing to laugh at. 

Hinata was sitting beside him, and the fan whirred gently overhead, and the warmth was seeping into Kenma’s bones. He could easily fall asleep there and flirted with the idea for a moment. 

But there was something he needed to talk about, first. 

“Shouyou.”

“Hm?”

He took a deep breath. “You were right. I think.” 

“I know.” 

That caught Kenma off guard, just a little. “Yeah?”

“You were looking at him today like he had hung the fucking sun,” Shoyo said. 

“It’s your fault! Ever since you said that I-” Thinking too hard made Kenma’s head throb. He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I can’t get it out of my brain.” 

Shouyou’s hands gently guided Kenma’s away from his head. “I’m sorry. But isn’t it better to know?”

“ _ No,” _ Kenma retorted. Shouyou gave him an unamused look. “I don’t want it to be weird with him. We just started being friends again.” 

“But that means you have nothing to lose!”

“I have  _ everything _ to lose,” Kenma said. “And I’m not ready for that to happen.” 

“But what if he feels the same way?”

“That’s funny.” Kenma sighed. “I just want things to go back to how they used to be.” 

He realized, distantly, that he had never voiced that thought out loud before. 

“I get that,” Shouyou said quietly after a moment. “It’s okay to want time.”

Kenma said nothing, but nodded. He had half a mind to ask Shouyou if he was okay, if there was anything he needed to talk about, if something had happened to him this week as well, but he didn’t. If something was wrong, Shouyou would tell him when he was ready. 

They sat in silence together until the rest of the teams started streaming in. 

Kuroo rushed over to Kenma immediately and brushed his hair back from his face, hands surprisingly gentle. “Holy shit.” Kenma winced. “Sorry, sorry. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay, I promise.” Kenma turned over, conveniently facing away from Kuroo. “I think I just need some rest.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kuroo paused for a moment. “We lost, by the way. 25 to 21.” 

“That sucks.”

“Well, hurry up and get better.” Kuroo jostled his arm. “We can’t win without our brain!”

“Hm.” Kenma waited for the sound of his receding footsteps before he allowed himself to relax. His body felt hot and cold all over. His heart was pounding. 

He cursed Shouyou silently for forcing this unwelcome awareness on him. Now that he had brought it up, it was impossible to ignore. 

Kenma knew that no matter what he had said before, one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be able to hide this for long. 

And thus, he began to avoid Kuroo. 

Kuroo had always been too observant for his own good, and now that Kenma had figured his crush out, it was only a matter of time before Kuroo did the same. His feelings seemed to have increased tenfold. If being near Kuroo had been weird before, it was damn near impossible now. 

So Kenma found ways to avoid him. He would hang out with the other members of the team or walk around the school grounds with Shouyou. He would only let himself get near Kuroo in group settings, where the older one couldn’t say anything about his strange behavior. He went to bed earlier than everyone and woke up later. 

Kenma knew, deep down, that he was being ridiculous and that Kuroo was bound to notice, one way or the other, his change in attitude. But he had  _ just _ gotten Kuroo back. 

He couldn’t lose him again. 

The Tokyo training camp passed at a snail’s pace, after that. Kenma admitted to himself that his isolation from Kuroo, while weird, was not entirely unwelcome. It was nice to be able to focus on something other than the anxiety that rose whenever he and Kuroo were together. 

And so he put his heart into playing, and bonding with his teammates, and hiding from Kuroo whenever he saw his tall shadow coming around a corner or into a doorway. 

“You’re an idiot,” Shouyou said bluntly when Kenma had informed him of the plan. “What do you even think that’ll do?”

“Keep him from knowing.”

“But didn’t you spend two years wanting him to talk to you again? You’re willing to just ignore him after all that?”

“I’m willing to give him a little distance,” replied Kenma. “I’m willing to do that if it means things will go back to how they used to be, in the long run.” 

Shouyou didn’t respond, but the disapproval was clear on his face. 

And after a few more treacherous days, the training camp ended. Their last match was finished, the plates and cups from the barbecue were clean, and Shouyou was giving Kenma a bone-crushing hug goodbye. 

“Good luck with… well, you know.” He said. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” 

Kenma bit back words of denial and patted Shouyou on the back. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

And then they were gone. 

The Nekoma team, because they were so close to the school already, went their separate ways soon after with resounding cries of ‘See you at practice!’. Kenma put his earbuds in and headed towards the train station. 

He knew Kuroo was behind him, could feel his presence, but he ignored it and Kuroo didn’t try to talk. It was silent as they got on the train, Kenma sitting in an open seat and Kuroo one row behind him. 

_ Fuck. _ Kenma buried his nose in his game, trying not to let the anxiety rise in his chest. Kuroo knew. Kuroo knew, and he hated Kenma, and he thought Kenma was disgusting. 

After only fifteen minutes, a tone sounded around them. Their stop. 

Kenma and Kuroo walked side by side, silent for a few moments until Kuroo stopped.

“Kenma, wait.”

_ Shit, shit, shit, shit, sh- _

“Look at the moon.” 

He did.

Kenma had never been too into space or astrology, but the moon was full tonight - fat and yellow and  _ beautiful _ . It cast a glow over the train tracks, and he watched a few birds fly across it, like something out of a movie. 

Something was touching his hand. A pinky, linked with his. 

Kenma couldn’t breathe. 

Kuroo laced their fingers together. Kenma turned his head to the side and stared up at him wordlessly. 

“I’m not as dumb as I look, you know,” Kuroo said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” 

“Notice?” He hated the way his voice cracked at the end of the word. 

“Your little stunt.” Kuroo’s grin was turning into something evil. “The way you started avoiding me after your talk with Shouyou. Normally I’d think he had corrupted you if you hadn’t been so nervous around me-”

Kenma’s face was on fire. His heart was beating out of control. Kuroo’s teasing, and his tone, and the fact that he  _ knew _ was all too much for him to handle. 

He ripped his hand out of Kuroo’s grasp, and he ran. 

His house wasn’t far, maybe five minutes at a walking pace, and Kenma was at a dead sprint. He was aware, in the back of his mind, that Kuroo could catch up to him easily. His legs were longer, and he ran a three-mile loop every morning. But he let Kenma run ahead and didn’t try to chase him. 

Kenma didn’t slow down until he was safely in his room. It was only around 5 PM, so his parents were still at work. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, taking deep, slow breaths to calm himself. 

He decided to debrief. 

The facts were, Kuroo knew how he felt. Had known, for an unspecified amount of time. And had proceeded to tease him about it… why?

Perhaps he was so disgusted that he had humiliated Kenma as a firm rejection, one that left no room for question. 

Kenma’s eyes began to sting, and he let out a soft curse, wiping them with his jacket sleeve. 

He had wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. He had even taken the steps to get them there. He hadn’t wanted anything to change, and by rejecting him, Kuroo had solidified the idea that they wouldn’t. 

So why the hell did it hurt this badly?

It was all Kenma’s fucking fault. He should have just been happy with what he had. But no, he always needed more, more,  _ more _ \- Kuroo’s friendship wasn’t enough. He had gotten too selfish. He had demanded what wasn’t his to ask for. 

He was pathetic, and he knew it. He had spent high school believing that that had changed, or that he had become better, but he was back at square one. 

Just like the tryouts all those years ago. He couldn’t help himself when it came to Kuroo, and now it may have cost him their friendship. 

And if Kuroo never talked to him again, he probably deserved it. 

The ticking of the clock and the hot tears dripping down his cheeks made time pass slower than ever. 

Deep down, Kenma knew he had only himself to blame. 

\--

Kenma woke up to someone gently shaking him by the shoulders. He was lying on the floor, limbs strewn about at odd angles, and his face itched from undried tears. 

He sat up. Kuroo was crouched down in front of him, concern dotting his face. 

“Kenma, are you okay?” 

He caught an eyeful of Kuroo - his hair messy, his cheeks red as if he had run to Kenma's house, his eyes full of worry. 

Kenma turned away, choosing to look at his clock instead. It was only 5:58. “I’m fine.” 

Kuroo, instead of leaving, sat down next to him. “I’m sorry.” 

“ _ I’m _ sorry,” Kenma replied. “I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that I ruined our friendship right as things got to how they used to be. I’m sorry I was so weird around you. If you never want to talk to me again, I understand.” He paused. “I wouldn’t either.” 

Kuroo looked stunned. “Kenma, what are you  _ talking _ about?” 

“I’m pathetic. I can’t fucking ever be happy with what I have. Even when you started talking to me again, I fucking needed more, and I, and we, I-” His fears rose up, clogging his throat, making his pitch high and breathy as he started to hyperventilate. He tried again. “I didn’t-”

“Calm down.” Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma. “Please, Kenma.” 

“Kuroo,” Kenma choked out. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have no reason to be.” Kuroo just held him as large tears began to roll down Kenma’s face, letting him cry into his chest. Kenma hated when this happened - hated when his feelings got so out of hand. 

He was apathetic so often, after all, and that pent-up emotion needed to go somewhere. 

It was nothing Kuroo hadn’t seen before. The outbursts had happened more when they were kids, and Kuroo would just hug Kenma tight until they passed, knowing that doing anything more would be like trying to stop a storm. 

By the time he was finished, Kuroo’s shirt was wet and Kenma’s throat was sore, but his mind was clearer than it had been all week. 

“Better?” Kuroo asked, pulling away from Kenma but keeping one arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

Kenma wiped his eyes. “Yeah.”  _ Thank you. _

“Can I talk now? Are you ready to listen?” Kuroo’s tone was all gentleness. Kenma nodded. 

“I’m sorry for teasing. I misread the situation, I think, and I didn’t realize it would upset you so much.” 

Kenma looked at him in confusion. “You misread the situation?” 

“I mean, I think so?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do  _ you _ mean?” 

Kenma sighed. “Please don’t make me say it. I think you already know. I told you, if you don’t want to talk to me, I get it.” 

“Kenma, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

Kenma buried his face in his hands so he wouldn’t have to see Kuroo’s expression. “I like you. Like, I  _ like _ you. I didn’t want you to know.” 

“Then why did you leave?” Kuroo’s tone was somber. 

“I thought I had grossed you out,” Kenma admitted. He had already gotten this far. “I’ve never been rejected before.” 

“Rejected? You’re the one who ran away.”

“You’re the one who let me.” 

They were silent for a moment. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo tried again. “Why were you so upset? It seemed like something more than the rejection to me.” 

Kenma took a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “I feel pathetic.” Okay, no, bad start. “I feel like I should have been happy with our friendship. And I feel like I ruined it by wanting more.” 

“Kenma, even if I didn’t feel the same way, you wouldn’t have anything to be upset about,” Kuroo replied. “You’re allowed to have feelings. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, ever.”

“I know. It just makes me-” Kenma stopped short as the rest of the sentence hit him. “Wait, the same way?”

“Yes? I thought we established that?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kenma didn’t think he could move. He was shocked, frozen to where he was sitting. 

“I held your hand! Did you want a formal confession?” 

“I thought you were… you really…” Kenma peered up at Kuroo. “You like me too?” 

Kuroo groaned. “Don’t say that, it makes me sound like a child. But yes, Kenma I  _ like you too. _ ” 

“Oh my god.” Kenma’s heart began to beat a little faster. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” Kuroo’s tone was teasing, but Kenma could detect the worry just under the surface. 

“So, we like each other?” He had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Like, romantically?”

Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back. “ _ Yes _ . I think so.” 

Kenma lowered his eyes. “I thought you were mocking me. When you held my hand.” 

  
“I wasn’t!” Kuroo insisted. “I was  _ trying _ to show you I was reciprocating, I thought it was obvious…”

“You let me run away.” 

“I thought you were mad at me. I wanted to give you some time to cool off.” 

Kenma let out a light giggle. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Hey!” Kuroo poked him. “We’re both idiots, thank you very much.” 

“Fine.”

“ _ Fine _ .” 

They both sat stubbornly, before Kuroo lay his hand between them, his palm face up. “Kenma.”

“Oh my god.”

“Will you do me the honor of holding my hand?”

Kenma groaned, shoving Kuroo’s face away so he didn’t have to see his stupid smirk and instead looking at the ceiling. 

“Don’t be like that!” Kuroo stood up before sitting on the bed, holding out his arms. “C’mere.” 

Kenma glared for a moment more before relenting. He lay down next to Kuroo, letting him wrap his arms around Kenma, back pressed to Kuroo’s chest. 

They had done this before, of course, during sleepovers or playdates when they were younger. 

But everything was different now. 

Kuroo laced one of his hands with Kenma’s and used the other to stroke his hair. 

Everything was different. 

Kenma closed his eyes contentedly. 

Everything was different. There would be no going back to the way things used to be. 

And for the first time, Kenma was okay with that.

Life moved on. People changed. After his anxiety and fears were stripped away, he wasn’t the same person that he had been when the year began, and he knew Kuroo wasn’t either. 

Change could be welcome. He had been scared of it for so long. He still was, in a way.

_ But isn’t it worth it, for moments like this? _

Kuroo sighed contentedly behind him, and Kenma closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into his arms. 

_ Of course it is. _

\--

Kenma woke up first and kicked Kuroo out. It was late, almost 9 at night, and they had school the next day. 

He walked Kuroo home. Quite stupid, considering he lived two doors down, but it seemed like the right thing to do. 

The walk was silent, but a comfortable silence, one that he was glad to share. 

There was still work to be done. He and Kuroo still had skeletons. Kenma was afraid Kuroo would wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a mistake. Kuroo couldn’t quell Kenma’s anxiety on his own simply by being there. They both had things they needed to solve. 

But those could wait until tomorrow, because they were approaching Kuroo’s door. 

“Hey,” Kenma said quietly. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and pulled Kuroo down by his collar before pressing their lips together. 

It was chaste and soft and lasted less than a second. Kenma didn’t feel any fireworks. He hadn’t expected to. Instead, a feeling that was warm and sweet filled his chest, as if something had finally clicked into place. 

He squeezed Kuroo’s hand one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Kuroo grinned. “Not if I see you first.” 

Kenma rolled his eyes and turned around, not looking back.

And this time, the door shutting behind him didn’t sound like a goodbye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S A WRAP. 
> 
> I'm so happy to finally have completed my first multichapter piece. This was totally new territory. Writing it helped me a lot to realize there's so much I can do to improve. I wrote most of this in the midst of quarantine and it was nice to have something to focus on. I know, I know, I'm being weirdly sentimental about something that isn't even 18k, but this was a lot for someone who struggles to write anything over 3,000 words. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this little project. Finishing this up, I realized I might not be done with my boys, at least not in the universe I've written. I want to write more about them in this series. If y'all have any suggestions (and I mean ANY - I'm not picky) feel free to drop them in the comments. 
> 
> Thank you all again for reading. As always, stay safe and happy and know you're loved!!


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